


Tilting at Windmills

by imladrissun



Category: Jonathan Creek (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8364328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrissun/pseuds/imladrissun
Summary: Adam realizes his life needs Jonathan in it after he begins helping Maddy, and decides to do whatever is necessary to show him how serious he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *note: this is a more serious, less comedic take on the show; imagine Adam as David Blaine [or someone quite attractive/successful], and also in this there is no JC fan club as in the show, or any of the outré stuff like Kenny or JC being on tv etc.

Jonathan was only rarely in the theater, it turned out, over the years. Adam sometimes felt his absence keenly, like he had time traveled and left his companion behind--because it was Jonathan who had done it all, who had moulded him and shaped him, had made him practice endlessly, rigorously, and then had let him try the real tricks he'd come up with.

Almost everyone else Adam knew in London knew him as a famous illusionist, not the random New Yorker that Jonathan had stumbled upon so many years ago. They had never talked about that, how Jonathan had simply 'picked' him and that was that. 

Adam had wondered why for over a decade now. Why him, and why an American? 

It wasn't like he could just ask the question outright, he mused, watching Jonathan work in his sketchbook. They were hanging out in his dressing room, which was really Jonathan's unofficial office. He'd never claimed a room of his own at the theater. 

Instead, he'd camped out with Adam from the start, and he had welcomed it. Jonathan was actually quite quiet, always drawing in his notebooks. He'd chat if Adam got after him, but mostly he sat there, absorbed in his thoughts. 

He had never felt alone, though, despite Jonathan's distraction. He had been pleased to be the only one who saw Jonathan work. The man never really bothered with anyone else. 

They had gotten very close over the years, despite the intimacy of their beginnings. Adam sometimes wished they could revisit that time, if only for how physically close they had been. Jonathan had personally taught him, guiding his hands, always touching him to model what he was meant to do.

Somehow, it seemed like the years had passed in a flash. Adam was famous now, successful. And of course, very wealthy. It was him, in fact, who had initially managed the financials of his career, because Jonathan didn't seem to have the interest or the head for it. He was so singularly focused on his creative work, on his imaginings. 

In time, he had hired a finance manager to deal with it all, and over the years had insisted she increase Jonathan's salary. To his dismay, she had eventually told him that not only did Jonathan not care, he almost never checked his accounts at all. He had always had enough to live on comfortably, and had asked her not to bother him with papers but to just take care of it for him. 

He didn't even ever look at his cheques. It was irrational, but finding out disappointed Adam immensely. He had always somehow thought of it as personal. It had been strange when he had taken off, knowing that no one knew who Jonathan was, or that he had created it all. 

In fact, Jonathan insisted on it, his anonymity. Over the years, if Adam brought it up, he stayed true to his initial feelings, and refused--just as curtly as he had rejected Adam's quiet, little hints of personal overtures, of a tentative feeler of a deeper possible relationship. Of love. Of course, in time he had realized Jonathan had a terrible grasp of interpersonal dynamics, and had understood that he had shied away from habit. He was almost a hermit, after all. He had asked once about it, only to find that Jonathan had thought he was asking if he wanted to go see a film. ..... A film. 

Of course he had distracted himself with women over the years, and it was fun at first. But then it became boring, and eventually lonely. Girls who knew nothing about him, not the real him. The American, poor, average him. 

He had gotten used to London, but missed being home fiercely every once in a while. Through it all, Jonathan had been the only constant. Sometimes he felt like he was a little Watson to his trick inventing Holmes. 

Jonathan had this way about him, though, this air of conservatism. Adam had tried numerous times to hint at the depth of his friendship and more feelings, to no avail. 

Jonathan seemed both disdainful of love, feelings, non-appropriate displays, and him in general. He was very stiff upper lip in his own way, and very sarcastic. 

Despite this, he had persevered. Eventually, Holmes retired in the countryside with Watson, right? So he had time. Adam had felt secure in his place as one of Jonathan's only friends.

And then Maddy had appeared. He might have protested, but Adam could tell he loved going on investigations with her. He loved being harassed by her, teased by her, all of it. 

It was then Adam realized he could feel both happy someone he loved was excited and simultaneously be full of jealousy induced rage. He and Jonathan had scarcely done more than share takeout together, while he and this new girl were driving out together, traveling all over really. 

When he found out she had visited his house--his windmill!--Adam had to excuse himself from the conversation, faking a forgotten note he had to give to an assistant. Instead, he raced outside, bummed a smoke off someone and went at it like a chainsmoker. 

He had thought himself safe, that Jonathan was ultimately his in the end, no matter how he was often preoccupied with his mental creative world. 

Now everything had changed. 

You see, it was just that Jonathan never let people come to his house. He was oddly protective of his windmill. When theater people had offered to drive him there, or drop off something at his place, he had always soundly refused. Adam had made it subtly known after a bit that no one was to go to his home without an express verbal invitation from the man himself. 

.... Not that he didn't still want one. It was strange, feeling beholden and yes, in love, to someone so caught up in other things. He had no doubt Jonathan hadn't even noticed. And that was fine--it had been fine, secure as he was in the knowledge that he alone was his friend's closest acquaintance. 

People who knew he was a genius always asked Adam for advice before going to the man himself. Sometimes Adam had even forbade it, if he thought Jonathan seemed too stressed, or busy, or harried. 

He was going to have to do something, he thought, smoking furiously. He could hardly see the alley around him. He had once made a huge leap before, when Jonathan had approached him in New Orleans, and they had come to London together. He had been loath to leave his home, his country, but the promise of being with Jonathan--at least in his company--had been enough.

He could make that leap again, this time into something new. He had relied on Jonathan to know what to do in regards to his career, his show, where he lived.

Now he was going to have to take the reins for once and tell Jonathan what he thought they should do. They had always been a team.

He had to make sure they embarked on the next step, the next moment, together. They had already gone through every phase of professional success together, there was no way they wouldn't fight to the top of any world they tried to conquer. 

This time, it just happened to be the world of true partnership, emotional work and love, instead of magic and technical details.

He threw the cigarette down on the pavement and stared at the ground. There was no way he could go on if this didn't work. He was not prepared to lose this fight, he thought, and grimly started a preliminary plan in his phone.


	2. Chapter 2

Jonathan was many things, but he was aware of his faults. He knew he had no interest in a lot of 'normal' things, in regular life milestones. He had his own goals, and set his goalposts accordingly. 

He didn't know many people who felt like he did, but that was fine. Most people didn't take to him, he was used to it. He always came off as too straightforward, it seemed, or too caustic. It had bothered him as a boy, but eventually he had stopped giving it any thought.

His current focus was on a new translation of the Westcar Papyrus, but he couldn't help himself and kept re-reading an issue of a 1793 periodical, 'The Conjuror's Magazine'. It was a lazy afternoon, and he had finished his work on the latest show at the theater. And his work for a few other magicians. Unbeknownest to Adam, he often supplied tricks to multiple people in the same field, always under different aliases. His ideas didn't always fit Adam or his energy, so he chose people that were right for the illusions. 

His latest case with Maddy had already concluded, only taking a few hours the day before and being absurdly simple. He was ready to jump back into planning some ancient world, Grecian style tricks, with nods to Heron, the famous engineer, but you had to take a mind break. A breather, alterting creative thinking with analytical, with learning, and so on. 

The Hyksos era manuscript was just the thing. He made himself up a tea and relaxed, going through the translation. 

Halfway through, his phone chimed. Adam had insisted he get a fancy new mobile every time a new one was put out, he'd have his assistant copy his contacts into it for him. Of course, by now Jonathan had a iphone due to this tradition. Adam had been texting him more and more recently. It was odd, but he hadn't sorted it yet. 

Mostly it had seemed like the man was lonely, to be writing him so often, but that didn't seem like Adam. He always had a new girl, a new interest. That was his way. His head was easily turned by anything new. It was the book that made Jonathan pause. He'd given him a copy of 'The discoverie of witchcraft', one of the first books on illusion and magic.

That was all fine.... except that the book was an original from 1584, and that he had given it to him on a random Tuesday. It didn't fit in with any of Adam's usual patterns. 

Jonathan told him it was wonderful, and he couldn't wait to read it. He left out the fact that he already had a cheap modern reprint. 

He also neglected to ask what the hell was wrong with him. It was different every time. Adam behaved oddly when he was in strop about something.

Most people would have sulked, or acted depressed when something was bothering them, but not Adam. He never had. Instead, he seemed energized by problems somehow, racing around doing loads of things [and people] at once. The book had to be coming from that wild energy he had.

Usually he just waited it out, and Adam would return to normal, but this time it was a little too focused on he himself. Jonathan found himself the center of Adam's attention, and it was a strange feeling. His friend had always been looking everywhere at once--at the tricks, the papers and props, the stage hands, the girls. He had a type of intense charisma that was natural. 

It was disconcerting to suddenly be added to the focus list. Jonathan didn't exactly know what to do, but he knew he had to do something, for once.


	3. Chapter 3

The afternoon post arrived at the windmill, so he went and opened it. There were precious few things, but the one thing there was left Jonathan lost for words. It was a request for his opinion, his expertise, on infiltrating a high security room and retrieving something unseen. It was, in fact, from a master thief, Jonathan suspected. He had never thought of using his ideas for immediate personal gain, and had never even lifted a wallet off someone, but the letter's proposal was serious. It was someone trying to retrieve blackmail information from a hidden safe. 

They explained their plan for getting in, and wanted his advice. They explained they had studied his work in depth and felt he had enough expertise to understand their level of technique.

It was true... He did get what they were getting after. There was no way to be sure that they were truly only trying to retrieve blackmail on someone innocent, though. Jonathan sat in the chair by his work desk blankly, letter loose in his fist. The writing, he thought. 

Then penmanship. Where had he seen that before? At another one of his performers, Amy--a woman more approachable and sweet than Adam's persona. He had supplied her with tricks before after watching some clips of her show at the theatre. Adam's assistants always kept him up to date on the latest new people in magic. 

Amy toured once in a while with a little coterie of assistants, one of whom designed her tricks. She was from Portland, he thought, but her trick sketcher was not. That one was Parker. Jonathan had seen her once, while he was checking the ropes for a live performance. 

He had gotten the feeling she knew who he was. For his part, he had known right away it was her who designed the tricks. He had seen her handwriting on his sketches--Amy had scanned her 'adjusted' copy and emailed to his theatre email address. Adam's assistants managed it for him. That was Parker's handwriting on the letter.

He really should pay those assistants more, he thought. 

Parker was one of the few people in magic making interesting tricks. Jonathan considered himself to be the other.

There were two other things Jonathan's skill set was good for [other than helping Maddie]: helping film and tv people create illusions without cgi computing, and figuring out how to trick people in order to steal stuff. 

He also was excellent at creating old fashioned musical numbers, in terms of the choreography. There was a math to it, a type of natural beauty in movement--like tweaking the representation of sine over and over, all over the room. He had tentatively started drafting plans for that type of thing years ago, and after succeeding at bringing Adam to greatness in the public eye, he decided to go for it. 

His latest numbers had been the dancing in Bajirao Mastani. He always required that he have photos of the actors involved and of the set, along with the music.

Adam had often asked him what he did with his time, but he'd never revealed any of his side projects. He thought Adam felt a sense of contentment [that allowed him to work at optimal efficiency] at being his prime focus. Jonathan had noticed him, how he blossomed while doing a trick for a little girl in Manhattan.

His other efforts were paltry in comparison, but when a little kid watched raptly, whispering wow, that had made all the difference. Suddenly, Adam had been wiser, mysterious, captivating. Jonathan had simply bottled that for the world. Adam needed to feel special and like someone was paying attention to him. 

Jonathan had actually only gotten really good at designing dances after relaxing his personal code of never getting involved with performers, and hanging out with Adam a few times. He stopped at the thought. It was true--he was a rather a simple man, very American in his ways. 

He liked to work too hard, and play too hard. Jonathan had, admittedly, gotten tired of his success. He wanted a few 'different' experiences, for once. Maddy supplied with that, and he liked it. Not that he'd deny her the victory of wrangling him into it at the start. That seemed to be her favorite part, the push and pull. 

He'd taken to going over to Adam's house more often, and even consented to little celebratory drinks with him. Adam seemed to care about that type of thing; he needed symbols and pomp, with circumstance on the side. It had seemed to make him deeply pleased, which in turn made Jonathan start training him on some new illusion techniques. 

It was better to let Adam feel like he was on top of the world before teaching him something new. He got discouraged quickly, and had always seemed worried that Jonathan would be disappointed in him--even though that was the point of being a teacher. Students always made mistakes, that was how learning happened. 

Recently, though, he frowned, putting his tea down on the sideboard, Adam had been at his happiest when Jonathan did something personal with him. That was new. It had always been faint, but now it was pronounced, serious. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he knew he was fiercely possessive over him. Adam was his, in toto. 

For the first time in years--in ever, really--he decided to have Christmas with him. Adam had always wanted a longer holiday with him, but Jonathan felt it was inappropriate.

He'd already had him move, leave his home country, learn years worth of lessons and expertise, practice for hundreds of thousands of hours, and suffer his exactingly high standards. How could he take more from him? Adam wasn't his little toy, moulded into the right shape. He was a plant that had just needed the right greenhouse to flourish in. 

Usually, they just did Christmas Day lunch together at the best place in London. They gave each other strange little gifts, which they'd done even in the beginning. The presents were never serious, just odd and kind of funny.

This year, he decided, he was going to change that. Instead of their all day Christmas luncheon, they were going to have a real time at Adam's house. There was no doubt that by the end of it, he'd be sick of him, and that would shake him off a bit from the whole love of his praise thing. Jonathan was sure of it. 

He couldn't even imagine it going the other way... Adam was just so typical, normal, and even sweet. He liked the easy road, the usual boring people, et cetera. 

Jonathan failed to realize that packing up and leaving your home on a grand adventure with a foreign teacher you just met was not something mundane, average people did. Especially not if they didn't have feelings of some sort for them.


	4. Chapter 4

It was ironic, Adam thought, that he had money and power and neither of it impressed the person he wanted it to. It fact, it was dismissed as childish. But then, Jonathan must really see him as his little green foreign student all the time, complete with a funny accent. It was a morose truth.

He had tried at first to be patient, to spend more and more time with Jonathan, but he couldn't. He was a man of action. He'd left America pretty quickly, had practiced quickly and constantly, and had performed all the time for what now was most of his entire life. He was tired of waiting. 

"Jon," he said suddenly, into the silence of his dressing room. It was mid-morning, all quiet. He didn't see Jonathan look up, surprised at the sobriquet. He rarely used them with him. They were just there for no reason, today. No one else was even working at the theatre. 

Jonathan often showed up to work on his drawings or his notebook brainstorms [as Adam mentally referred to them], so Adam sometimes popped in as well, 'coincidentally'.

Yeah, he was that bored. Staring at the ceiling of the pool room bored, more like, to be honest. "What do you want to do next?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, after this stuff. I'll be too old, you'll get bored with this; what do you want to do then? You're like a genius, I know you know, so maybe you could be a consultant or designer or whatever you want and I could be your secretary."

Adam had gotten more and more pleased by the idea as it formed. He leaned forward in his chair, imagining it. Jonathan was openly staring at him, shocked, but he went unseen. "I think I'd be great at it; I love talking to people, I'm friendly, I'm the one who remembers birthdays and stuff for us..."

That was true. The other had no head for dates, or how to appropriately celebrate them, once giving Adam a toolbox, with literal wrenches in it. [No magical use for them or anything.] He looked over at Jonathan. He had laid his hand down, still grasping the heavier ink pen he liked to use in preliminary planning on illustrations. He was looking at him, resigned. "You're talking like we're always going to be together," was all he said. 

Adam shook his head, mentally negating his words. "We will. You're it, for me. You're the only person I like -- that I ever really liked." Jon looked almost confused, and he shrugged. "It's the truth." 

He had gotten tired of worrying over him and Maddie. Adam just wanted it over; he wanted to know either way. 

"I can't imagine someone with me," Jonathan said slowly, as if that were some obvious statement of fact. "I'm too critical. I never know the right thing to say. I don't care about normal stuff, or spend my time like everyone else. All I care about are my interests."

Adam had to admit he had him there. But then he hesitated, as if he were going to say more. 

He was prepared to wait. He hadn't assumed that Jonathan would think himself so different, so un-live with someone and marry them-ish. As he tried to formulate his response, Jonathan finally continued. "Yes," he said suddenly, "I do think of you as 'my' person, somehow. I've always favored you, obviously. You have an incredible ability to learn. But you don't want to come hang out in the mill while I unintentionally end up ignoring whatever you'll be prattling on about and work on my plans or drawings, you'll--"

"I do," he interrupted. It was true. He didn't mind that Jonathan rarely paid attention to his rambling. As if he hadn't had enough years to notice that he was single-mindedly obsessed with his work alone. It had been kind of obvious. 

Quite a few hopeful ladies [and men] had been stymied by their comments to him; they had praised the 'incorrect' things to praise, apparently--thank goodness!

Jonathan made a face like someone had brought fish into the room. "You'd be bored, annoyed eventually--"

Adam smiled slowly. Now he'd gotten somewhere. "I wouldn't, but we can see. If you're right, you're right. No problem."

Jonathan looked confused. He had won a little battle, but looked like he had a prophetic dream that he might lose the war. "I'll swing by, and we'll see if I like it," Adam explained, and his friend relaxed, looking very certain of victory. "If not, fine."

"Good," he said, pleased again. "Then you can get this out of your head."

It turns out, it didn't quite go like that. Adam's first visit to the windmill had invovled him just walking around in the surrounding fields while listening to audiobooks on his ipod. He had never really thought about how old he was, but he did now. If this worked, he'd have only a few decades with Jonathan. That just wasn't enough.

He was suddenly loath to waste any time, in any manner at all. They had done enough of that already, though he did love their friendship. He started to come by the windmill all the time, much to Jonathan light consternation. He seemed shocked every time his car rolled up and he poked his head in to call hello. 

Jonathan would peek down at him, all confused, and he would smile and go outside for another walk, or back to the house at home. Elaborate plans and intricate details were Jon's wheelhouse, not his. He was a people person. 

After his walk, he started to come in, once or twice, not just to say goodbye like usual, but to hang out. It was a slow process, but people were like plants. Not quick to change; real change was organic.

Jonathan tentatively offered him a glass of water one of the times, and he accepted it. It was clear he understood how serious this was, which made Adam happy. Even though he was dying to, he didn't look around his house. He had to lull him into a state of calmer-ness, to show he was willing to wait, so that he could feel relaxed with him there. 

Eventually Jonathan lets him look at certain cuts of video he get, on a little ipad that's dropped off by the post. It's all dancing stuff, like musical numbers, to Adam's surprise. And mostly foreign. He seems touchy about it. 

He asks him to critique it though, and he's always been truthful about that. Jonathan is not a sweet lies required kind of guy. He demands honesty, and always gives it. He always said there's no trick without honesty. ... Adam's still trying to figure that out, years later, but he thinks he's almost got it. 

When he points out a minute flaw [in his opinion] of the placement of one of the backup dancers, and the way someone is holding a little object, Jonathan considers it. He's always felt special in the way that his opinions get consideration. 

Because few do. 

He looks at the frozen stills on the tablet screen silently for a long time before nodding. "Yes, you've got it. Both out of alignment. Let me call and have it corrected. Now listen with the music on," he adds, chooses another video that simply has the music on, not just the dance.

"See what you think about the flow," Jon tells him absently, touching his shoulder, the phone already ringing out. That's the first time he's touched him in a long time, he thinks, smiling. 

Then he realizes he hasn't been listening to the music and rewinds. He has to be exacting [well as much as he can be, Jonathan's only ever required he do his best] in his criticism. 

And so he starts to be his assistant, of a kind. Their shows get smaller and smaller, by both's agreement, and they use their connections to keep their extraneous staff going in the direction of people they know. Jonathan's like that, thoughtful when you don't expect it, and blasé when you do.

It becomes the new routine, really, for him to help out with review. He knows how important these rehearsal videos are; Jonathan had him do a kind of similar thing. This last process is crucial, it's where you take the raw diamond and cut it into gleaming marquises.

And then you polish it, like they're doing now. Pretty soon, it seems he passed some kind of test, because Jonathan has him review loads of video--tv and film clips [that he's apparently designed in some way?? He doesn't ask], musical numbers, long intricate dances from the Telugu speaking areas.

It's like a weird second career, but then again, it's not. Because he's kind of felt like Jonathan's assistant all this time anyway. Only he could make Adam's job seem like an unfortunate trial that no one would want. Like notoriety was bad, and money was something you shouldn't be proud of or mention. 

He had known Jonathan was special from the start. His small adjustments, his short comments had changed things that were only average into the exceptional. He had looked at him, almost measuring him up, and Adam had found himself wanting to impress him. 

He had followed after him like an obedient student. Even after years had passed, and he had seemed to be 'more' than his teacher, well, to everyone else. He had found that perhaps Jon's view of things was closer to the truth than his--the money didn't fulfill his heart, somehow. Something was missing, and didn't go away with a nice car and manor.

Admittedly, it was always lonely in his big house. It was fun at first, but then just empty. He had had to come up with reasons to just hang out at the theatre when Jonathan was going to be there. 

He starts spending a lot of time on the phone with other parts of the world. He wondered if there would be an issue with people demanding to speak to Jon alone, but no. They seem pleased, relieved to deal with him.

It turns out Jonathan is way busier than he thought, in many directions. He never mentions what they talked about, because he knows 'feelings' is close to a dirty word for Jon, but the way he looks at him sometimes, he knows he's thinking about it.

He has all the time in the world. He's already won. For Jonathan to let someone into his work like this, this is the ultimate. For him, it's the equivalent to trust, loyalty, love. 

His creative work is his secret legacy, his art that the world sees. And he gets to watch everyone's reactions from the shadows, safe.

Now that he's let him work at the lair, as Adam mentally refers to it, he's much more open with him. He's even willing to go to the manor to watch a match--Adam had forced himself to get into soccer to acclimate to the new culture he found himself in. 

For all Jonathan might act like watching television or sports is a waste of time, he sure seems invested when it's Watford versus Chelsea. He knows he's made it when Jonathan suggests afterwards, to his surprise, that they watch a baseball game, takes the remote and gets it on.

The crack of the bat feels like the sound of success, Adam thinks, and smiles. He's spent so many years doing everything English, to learn the words and slang, and to live up to Jonathan's standards, his belief he would be super successful--it's just funny to see him do something the other way round. Funny, but nice.

**Author's Note:**

> **FYI I take commissions, just message me : )


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